Candlelight
by theHuntgoeson
Summary: Christmas 1981: Alex helps Gene through a dark night of the soul.
1. Rejection

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos and Monastic own everything.**

**As this is a Christmas themed story, I'd hoped to get it finished in time to start posting before the festive season, but personal circumstances and a sluggish Muse deemed otherwise. However, here it is, only slightly late, which I hope you will excuse. I'm still not completely happy with some bits of it, but see what you think. This is a sort of commercial break while "Stravagation" awaits its next update, though very different in tone from that epic (and much shorter - only four chapters). Grab a turkey sandwich and a slightly stale mince pie, and settle down for a spot of festive angst…**

Alex marched into her flat and slammed the door so hard that the windows rattled. She had never been so angry in her life. That - that bloody _man_! Who the hell did he think he was to treat her like that? Later, she knew, she would feel unimaginable pain at what had happened. Better to hold onto her anger for as long as possible. At least it was a positive force.

In the weeks following the deaths of her parents, she had become increasingly grateful for Gene's understanding and consideration. He had not known why she should be so badly affected by the deaths of two poncey, Leftie lawyers, but it had been enough to him that she _was_ affected, and in his own characteristic way he had done what he could to help. He had immersed her in difficult cases which left her with no time to think of anything else; whenever he saw her listless and depressed, he had started a rousing argument; and he had made a point of seeking her out for those long, fascinating discussions every evening at Luigi's which they both found so stimulating and challenging. Gradually he had brought her back to life. She had sensed their becoming closer as she came to rely on him more and more, and without saying anything, she had tried to show him how intensely grateful she was for his covert understanding and kindness.

Then, shortly before Christmas, it had all started to go wrong. He became morose and withdrawn, only addressing her at work when he had to and snapping at her when he did. Away from work, he shunned her company. Alex searched her conscience for anything she might have done to offend him - more than she usually did - but drew a blank. Had he regretted becoming so close to a member of his team? Did he consider that she did not, or should not, need him any longer? Had he simply lost interest? It was impossible to find out as he wouldn't say anything. She grew depressed again, and it seemed to her that he was unhappy too.

Matters had come to a head that evening, 18 December, the last Friday before Christmas. Gene had been away from the office in the afternoon, and in his absence CID had decamped en masse to Luigi's at 5.00. Everyone except Alex was well on the way to becoming mince-pie-eyed by the time Gene walked in, ordered a bottle of "house rubbish", and ensconced himself at his usual corner table, grim-faced and glowering.

Alex had been careful not to approach him too quickly: she did not want to appear too eager, and she did not want to provide fuel for CID gossip. She was sure that they were talking already about her apparent rift with Gene. But she was determined not to let this situation go on any longer. After about ten minutes she excused herself from a conversation with Shaz, strolled over as nonchalantly as she could to the corner table, and sat down beside Gene, hoping that she did not look as nervous as she felt.

"Any of that for me?" she said lightly, pointing to the bottle.

"If you want", he grunted. Taking that as a yes, she poured herself a glass, sipped some, and said, still as lightly as she could, "Anything wrong?"

"No, nothin'," he growled. "Unless you count havin' the biggest set of tossers in the Met on my team."

"I would have thought you were inured to that long ago," she said, trying to laugh, "and shouldn't you have added, "present company excepted"?"

"Present company can include or exclude herself, as she chooses," he snapped. Alex caught her breath: she was used to his rudeness by now, but she sensed that there was something deeper here.

"Look, Gene," she said firmly, putting her elbows on the table and leaning towards him, "we've worked together for long enough for me to know when something's wrong. You've hardly been able to give me a civil word for more than a fortnight. If I've offended you, at least tell me how so that I can do something about it."

He was silent for a moment, passing a weary hand over his face, then he turned to her, his eyes narrowed to slits, and she gasped at the fury in his gaze.

"DI Drake, I'd take it as a personal favour if you'd _bloody leave me alone!_"

It was spoken loudly and penetratingly enough for everyone to hear, and a shocked silence fell as everyone waited for Alex's reaction.

For a moment, she was too stunned to speak, then cold fury at her public humiliation took over. Her hand itched to punch his jaw, as she had done once before when he had offered her an unforgivable insult. For a moment she imagined herself swiping him clean off his chair and kicking him as he lay on the floor at her feet. Nothing but the sight of his blood could satisfy her. But common sense prevailed. There was no point in giving her colleagues anything more to talk about, and she would sooner die than let that bastard see how deeply he had hurt her.

"Fine," she said in a small, tight voice as she rose to her feet. "If you want me to leave you alone, I'll leave you alone." She drained her glass, slammed it down on the table so hard that the stem nearly snapped, and walked upstairs to her flat without a backward glance. If she had looked back, she would have seen the agony in the sea-blue eyes that followed her.

As the sound of her door slamming reverberated into the thickening silence, every eye in the restaurant turned to Gene. He drained his glass, rose, and walked out. A few seconds later they heard the unmistakable sound of the Quattro's powerful engine as it gunned into life and roared into the distance.

"What the hell was all that about?" Chris blurted out, breaking the silence. "She'd barely started before he bit her head off!"

Ray rolled his eyes and shook his head. Shaz, deeply concerned, made to rise and follow Alex, but Chris, wiser than she for once, laid a hand on her arm. "Not you, Shaz. It isn't you she needs now." He glanced compassionately towards the stairs leading to the flat. "And what she needs, it looks like she can't have."


	2. Contemplation

**Many thanks to all the nice people who read Chapter 1, and especially those who've taken the time and trouble to review! **

**This is my "Christmas mood" chapter - we get back to plot in Chapter 3.**

**A very happy New Year to all my readers - I hope to get the next chapter posted at the end of this week.**

Alex peeled off her clothes and dived into the shower, letting the play of the hot water on her body soothe and calm her. Emerging, she towelled herself dry and put on a nightshirt and her dressing gown. It was too early for her to go to bed yet, and she knew if she did, she wouldn't be able to sleep. Besides, she wasn't going to let that bastard ruin her pre-Christmas routine.

She had dreaded the thought of spending Christmas without Molly. Her sorrow was somewhat tempered by the knowledge that, in all probability, time in her fantasy world ran at a different speed to that in the real world, and that in 2008, Molly was more likely to be gorging herself on Easter eggs - _if Evan lets her_ - or wearing a sunhat and eating ice lollies right now, than hanging up her Christmas stocking.

Alex had devised a routine which made her feel that she was sharing Christmas with her absent daughter as much as possible. She had bought a four-foot Christmas tree - a real one, as Molly was always scathing about artificial ones ("but you can't _smell_ them, Mum") - and it stood by the window, hung with coloured fairy lights and shiny baubles which reflected the light. Molly was always so good at decorating the tree, and she always had an eye for decorations which caught the light. Watching Molly fastidiously considering and rejecting tree decorations, Alex had sometimes wondered if her daughter was destined to become an artist. Now she wondered if she would ever know what Molly would become.

She had bought a set of Nativity figures and arranged them on the left-hand side of the cabinet facing the sofa. At home, she and Molly had always had an Advent candle, marked with the days from 1 to 24 December, and every day they had burned the fraction of candle marked with that day's date. She hadn't realised how much more limited the array of Christmas decorations available would be in 1981 compared with 2008, with far fewer imported from the Continent. She had fairly ransacked London in a fruitless search for an Advent candle, and at last had been forced to compromise. She had bought a large box of long white household candles and an Advent calendar - fortunately for her waistline, one of the old-fashioned type without chocolates - which she placed on the right-hand side of the cabinet. She had found a large brass candlestick in an antique market and spent a Sunday lovingly polishing it to a gleaming shine, ignoring Gene's barbed comments about the smell of Brasso on her hands the following day. Now it took pride of place in the centre of the cabinet, and every night in December she opened a door on the Advent calendar, turned out every light in the flat except for the fairy lights on the tree, lit a candle, and sat gazing at it, letting her thoughts wander where they would, usually to Molly and to home.

She decided to light her candle early that night. She had even more than usual to think about.

As always, the sight of the clean golden-yellow flame, with its deep blue centre like a glowing crocus, calmed and focused her mind. She tried to think about Molly, but inevitably her mind turned on Gene's brutal rejection. When she had first awakened in 1981, she had tried to dismiss him, and all the others, as her imaginary constructs. But as time went on and she became more deeply involved in this world, they had all become intensely real to her, he most of all. For all their professional and personal differences, he had been the one true friend upon whom she had thought she could rely. For a moment, she toyed with the idea of requesting a transfer, but almost at once she abandoned it. She was convinced that she had been sent to this place and this time for a reason, just as Sam Tyler had been, and she dreaded that if she moved away, it might somehow impair her chances of returning home. That conviction had been strengthened by her discovery that it had been Gene who had shielded her from the bomb blast which had killed her parents when she was eight years old. Perhaps, in some way she had yet to understand, he was the key to the powers that held her here. She had to stay and face this out somehow. But the prospect of facing it without Gene's support, possibly with him as her enemy, frightened her. She felt utterly alone. She had not thought that losing him like this could hurt so much, and the realisation of how keenly she felt that loss made her acknowledge something which she had never been able to admit before, even to herself.

She loved him. She had held back for so long, knowing that an emotional commitment to someone in this world would make it harder for her to return home, but at the moment of losing him, without even understanding why he had rejected her, she could not deny this truth any longer. She knew that she loved him, needed him, and could not go on without him.

Perhaps it was better like this. At least there would be nothing to keep her here once she was able to go home at last. She had better start trying to hate him, if she could. Otherwise she would spend the rest of her time here vainly hoping for his love.

There was less noise from downstairs than usual, and she surmised that CID had sloped off to boozers new. She sighed and let the gentle flickering of the candle flame lull her, imagining Molly's cheeky little face behind it as she blew out the candles on her birthday cake. Now, more than ever, she longed for home.

She sat there for a long time before her reverie was interrupted by a light, insistent knock at the door. She cursed inwardly as she stood, picked up the candlestick, and went to answer. Probably it was Luigi, checking to see how she was.

"Who's there?" she called, her hand on the chain.

An all too familiar voice, strangely hesitant, answered.

"It's me."

**TBC**


	3. Confession

**Disclaimer. BBC, Kudos and Monastic own Ashes to Ashes and everything pertaining thereto. My parents own the original of Alex's candlestick. I only own my ideas.**

**Repeated thanks to everyone who has read the first two chapters and especially those who have reviewed, here and elsewhere. Your feedback is most welcome. **

**This chapter is by far the longest and contains the real meat of the story. It's also, inevitably, the one about which I have most reservations. But see what you think.**

Her first impulse on hearing Gene was to shout to him to piss off, but something in the tone of his voice stopped her. After his behaviour earlier she would have expected him be defiant, but he sounded subdued, almost pleading. If he was going to apologise, she thought with the last of her vindictiveness, it should be worth hearing. Her decision made, she removed the chain and opened the door.

She had to restrain a gasp at the sight of him. By this stage of the evening she would have expected him to be thoroughly drunk, but by the glow of the candle and the landing light, the blue eyes were clear and he was rock-steady on his feet. She guessed that he had not touched a drop since that glass of wine earlier in the evening. But his face was that of a man who had looked into Hell.

"Can't imagine you'll ever want to see me or talk to me again," he said, very low. "But 'ere I am. Been drivin' around for hours trying to think 'ow to say this, and I'm no nearer than when I started. Can I - ?"

He gestured helplessly, and she nodded and stood aside to let him in. _I should throw him out. But for him to be showing his feelings like this, whatever has happened must be serious. If he's ever going to open up about what's troubling him, this is the time. This is more important than my personal pride. _

He looked surprised to see the the candlestick in her hand and the flat in near-darkness, and she thought she heard him muttering, "Power cut?"

"My Advent candle," she said, setting it back on the cabinet. "Like it?"

Without replying, he sank onto the sofa and buried his face in his hands. Her first impulse was to sit next to him, but some instinct told her that he needed space. Graceful as a cat, she sat on the rug at his feet, resting her arms on the corner of the sofa seat, gazing up at him, and waited.

He slowly lifted his head and looked down at her. The candlelight turned his hair to bright gold and threw his face into shadow. She sensed that he was grateful for the privacy that the semi-darkness gave him.

"Been a bastard t'you, Alex, an' I know it," he said wearily. "Can't ask you to forgive me, but will you let me try an' explain?"

"Go ahead," she said softly.

He was silent for a long time, and she guessed that he didn't know how to begin.

"You knew Sam, didn't you?" he said abruptly.

The question was so unexpected that it took her a few seconds to say, "Yes - that is, I never met him, but I read his reports and listened to tapes he made, and I felt that I came to know him through those."

"Hah! Reports, tapes -" one large hand made a dismissive gesture. "That's not knowing my Sammy-boy. You'd 'ave 'ad to meet 'im for that, to know 'im like I did. He was my best mate. The best friend a bloke ever 'ad. He was more than a brother to me. I was goin' to the bad when he came along. Oh, I thought I was gettin' on all right, but I was fittin' people up to get results, takin' backhanders. Playin' the scum at their own game to keep the streets clean. It worked in its way, but it wasn't _right_. It took 'im time, but he made me realise that. The day 'e first waltzed into my office..."

The memories poured from him in a seemingly unstoppable flood, case after case, anecdote after anecdote, some which Alex already knew and others which were new to her. He was more animated than he had been in weeks. Alex listened, enthralled, as his words brought Sam back to life. She could have sworn that there was a third person in the room, a slim, sad-eyed, sweet-faced young man in a leather jacket, who stood in the deepest shadows listening to the voice of his dearest friend recalling their days together.

"Then 'e died." Gene's voice dropped to a whisper. "Drove 'is car into the river. Drowned. Never found 'is body. What a waste. Bloody useless waste. Couldn't say goodbye. Never thanked 'im properly for all 'e did for me. I miss 'im. Oh, God, I miss 'im -" He bowed his head into his hands again and there was deep silence in the room.

Alex's mind was whirling. She ached to reach out and comfort him, but after his earlier rejection she did not know if she had the right. Inwardly she was furious with herself. _Call yourself a psychologist, Drake? This man's been bleeding inside over the death of his best friend. I bet he hasn't been able to talk to anyone about it. He hasn't been able to grieve properly. He can't move on. No wonder he can't accept another relationship. And you'd written him off as an insensitive bastard!_

"I killed 'im." Gene's voice cut shockingly through the silence.

"But - but you can't have," said Alex uncertainly. "You weren't even there. Ray told me - "

"I _should _ 'ave been there!" he snarled. "I should 'ave stopped 'im! I was needed, an' I wasn't there. I killed 'im as surely as if I'd put me gun to 'is 'ead an' pulled the trigger!"

"Gene, you can't - "

"Don't tell me I shouldn't be blaming myself!" He raised his head sharply, looking away from her. His body was rigid, and his voice was raw with an anguish which made her heart ache. "They all say that - Ray, Chris. Even Annie, an' Christ knows she 'as most cause to blame me. I _know_. I destroyed 'im. Me best friend. An' that was what killed me marriage. We'd gone on for years. It was no more than 'alf a marriage, but we'd got along, even though I was a bastard to 'er most of the time. She put up with me absences, me boozin', me bits on the side, but the one thing she couldn't take was me grieving for 'im. To 'er, my Sam was only a colleague. I tried to talk to 'er about 'ow I felt, but she just told me to get over it. She felt threatened because I could feel that much for anyone else. Never understood. Got fed up an' left in the end. I came 'ome one night to find the 'ouse empty an' 'er clothes gone, a note on the table an' me supper in the oven, burned to a cinder. That was like 'er style. But I couldn't blame'er," he added, his voice softening, instinctively turning his head so that his face was in deeper shadow, where Alex could not see him. "She deserved better than I was prepared to give 'er. She's better off without me. Like everyone."

"Gene, how can you say that?"

"I destroy whatever I touch!" he said harshly. "Stu too, me poor brother. 'E died a junkie. I didn't find 'im in time. I should 'ave been there, an' I wasn't!"

Alex silently searched for something to say which might break down the walls of self-imposed guilt which this pain-racked man had built around himself. She was a psychologist, a hostage negotiator, yet she had never felt so helpless in the face of overwhelming grief. _Classic survivor guilt. God knows I'm familiar with that. But I've learned to deal with it, and he hasn't. Just let him talk. Let all the pain spill out. Then it may be easier for me to reach him._

He turned his head to look at her again, and the flickering light fell across his face, illumining it, bringing out the glow in his eyes as they met hers. "That's why I've got to keep away from you," he said softly. "You're the breath of life t'me, Alex. The only worthwhile thing I've 'ad to live for since 'e died. Always known it, ever since that first day when you put your 'and on me chest an' were surprised to find I 'ad an 'eart. Just couldn't admit it to meself, much less to you. I've been letting you get closer t'me, an' that could destroy you too. I can't risk that. Mustn't. It's got to be enough t'me to know you're alive an' safe an' happy. That's why I said what I did, tonight. Had to drive you away. Should 'ave left it at that. Should 'ave let you go on thinkin' I'm the bastard that I am. Meant to make you mad at me, but shouldn't 'ave 'urt you too. That's why I came 'ere to explain. I owed you that." Even in the dim light she could see the shutters coming down. "Forget it. I'm talkin' bollocks. I'd better go."

Her heart beat wildly, and she was almost choked with unshed tears. _He loves me. But if I don't speak now, I'll lose him. _He gathered the skirts of his coat about him and made to rise, and at last she dared to reach out to him, laying a hand on his arm. He froze at her touch.

"No, Gene. Don't go." She forced her voice to sound calm. "You said you owed it to me to explain. Well, now you owe it to me to stay."

Unwillingly, he settled back onto the sofa, desperate to escape, his body still rigid. He could not look at her, taking refuge in the darkness. _Hardly surprising, after making an admission like that. _For few moments they were both silent, while she mutely prayed for the right words to reach him.

"I want to thank you for telling me all this," she said carefully, sounding calmer than she felt. "It - it explains a lot. I feel so privileged that you feel able to talk to me about it. Perhaps it's as well that you think like this. After all, if, as you say, you're a destroyer, then I must be too, and I'd rather do anything than harm you."

"_NO!"_ He turned his head sharply towards her, and she saw the shock and horror written in his face. "Not you! Never you! You're all life - all beauty - "

"My parents died because of me," she continued relentlessly. "In an accident, when I was a child. I can still see it as if it were yesterday." She hesitated, no longer looking at him, lost for a moment in terrifying memories. _I can't tell him the whole truth._ "They - they were coming to collect me from school. I was standing outside, waiting for them. I saw the car approaching. My mother was leaning out of the window and calling to me. Then suddenly, a skid - the car crashed into a tree - it was a fireball. They didn't stand a chance. They died before my eyes, belted into the blazing car, and left me all alone. Ever since I've had to carry the guilt of their deaths."

"But why?" he said gently.

"Because I lived and they died! I watched them burn to death and I didn't do anything!"

"You couldn't!" he said forcefully. "You were a kid. Even as a grown woman, you wouldn't 'ave been able to do anything. If you'd tried to 'elp, you'd 'ave been killed too. D'you think they'd 'ave wanted that for you?"

_My father did. But I can't tell you that. _"I don't know. Sometimes - I think they'd have wanted me with them."

"Of course they wouldn't! Not unless they were sick bastards like Tim Price, an' I pray there aren't any more like 'im in the world. You mustn't blame yourself for that."

"Then my marriage failed. That was my fault too. It was doomed from the start because I wasn't prepared to give it enough. I was so determined to make something of myself. So that people would admire me instead of pitying me."

"That's not bein' a destroyer. That's bein' positive."

"My ex-husband wouldn't say so," she said grimly. "He resented my devotion to my work, and he started cheating on me almost as soon as the honeymoon was over. He divorced me for a younger woman."

"'Old it right there. It takes two to cock up a marriage. I know that. Any man who was prepared to cheat on you didn't deserve you."

"Too right he didn't." She laughed bitterly. "Well, I'm punished now. My daughter was the only good thing to come from my marriage, and I don't know whether I'll ever see her again."

"You mean 'e's got custody?" he said softly. "Because you've got a job? God, I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't know."

"No reason you should. I hadn't said anything." She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her at the thought of Molly. "So, you see, that's why I'm alone. I've destroyed or driven away or lost all of them."

"Stop talkin' gobshit! You said yourself, your parents' death was an accident. You're not to blame for survivin'. Thank God you did. Lucky I don't know your 'usband, or I'd kick seven shades of crap out of 'im. 'E was a bastard. Pull yourself together, Bolly. It's not like you to blame yourself for everything. You're usually too busy blamin' everyone else in the world. Especially me."

"Then why is it all right for you to blame yourself when I'm not allowed to?" she flashed back.

For a moment she saw a flicker of uncertainty, then he rallied. "Because I should 'ave been there! What's 'appened to you isn't your fault."

"Because you've got to be invincible? Because I'm a woman? Come off it, Gene. We're all human. None of us succeed all of the time. You've got to accept that and move on. Just as I've tried to do."

He hunched back into the sofa, his hands dug into his pockets, looking away from her into the darkness, cutting himself off from her. "You don't understand..." he muttered.

"Don't I? But if you were going to destroy me, you would have done it long ago. You wouldn't have stopped me walking out in front of that car, the day we met. You wouldn't have saved Shaz and myself from Layton, by the river. You'd have let me take the force of the blast when _The Finish _went up. You'd have left me to freeze to death in the Cales' cold store. You wouldn't have shielded me when Hollis opened fire. Time and again, you've saved me. When we were locked in the vault at Edgehampton, you comforted me when I was on the point of breaking down. I'll always remember how safe I felt with you, even though I knew we were likely to die there. And when you found me in that cold store, I was hallucinating. I could see - death - looming over me. Then suddenly you were there, and I knew I would live. You, death? You, a destroyer? No, Gene. You are _life_. A force for good such as I have never known. My guardian angel. One of the first things Ray said to me when I came here, was that being where you are, is the right place to be, and he was right. Sam didn't die because of you, he died because he wouldn't wait for you. Every time you've had to come to my rescue, it's been because I've tried to do without you. I thought I had to do this on my own, but now I know that I can't be alone any longer. I need you, Gene. I always will. _I love you_."

Even in the dim light she saw his face soften as he turned to her, saw the hope and longing that he tried to hide. "Alex, no…"

"Yes! I love you, you bloody impossible man. I know it at last. I should have known it long ago. Are you going to punish us both because you can't square it with your conscience to love me and accept whatever we might have together?"

He looked like a thirsty traveller in a desert who had to pass by an oasis. "I can't. You know why. I mustn't."

"If I'm wrong, if my loving you does put me in danger in some obscure way, then I'll accept that risk. You wouldn't be to blame, it would all be my fault. I'd rather love you and live, really _live_, for whatever time I have here, however short or long it is, than go on like this, merely existing without you."

He was almost quivering with need. "Alex, I can't. For your sake."

_It would take so little for him to reach out to me. But it's the one thing he can't let himself do._

"Oh, Gene," she said softly. "I know how much worse it is to fear for the one you love, than to fear for yourself. A madman had me at gunpoint, and I wasn't afraid, but then he snatched my daughter and I nearly died of terror. You're the bravest man I know. I've never seen you afraid for yourself. But you're so afraid of losing me too, that you're isolating yourself from me. From everyone. That's what will destroy you."

"Don't care what 'appens to me," he whispered. "So long as you're safe, I can take it."

"But I care what happens to you, and would Sam - _Sam_, of all people - want you to live only half a life because of some imagined guilt over him? You've just been telling me about someone who was life-affirming, a force for good, like you. Wouldn't he want to you to be able to remember him by celebrating his life, instead of being lost in grief?"

"I _do_ remember 'im." The shutters came down again, and she cursed herself. _Wrong move. Oh, God, I was so near. Now he's pulling away again. _"That's why I know what I've got to do. Keepin' you safe's all I can do, for you an' for 'im."

"I don't want to be safe if it means being without you!" Tears were gathering in her eyes. She was beyond pride. _Nothing matters, if only I can get through to him. _"We risk our lives together, day after day! We both know that's part of the job, and we wouldn't have it any other way! I'm only safe _with _you. _Gene_ - "

He had himself in control now, she saw it. He could not trust himself to speak lest he betray himself, but he was looking away from her, and his face was set in grim, immovable lines. She could feel his body tensing to rise and walk out of the flat, out of her life. He would never open up to her like this again.

_I've lost him. I've utterly failed, most miserably failed. I've failed myself and, worse, I've failed him._

She buried her face in the corner of the sofa seat and cried as if her heart would break, lost to everything but the depths of her despair. She heard him groan "Oh, my love - ", then he slid off the sofa and was on his knees, his arms wrapping around her, holding her close and safe, cradling her head against his shoulder, stroking her hair, rocking her as though she were the child whom he had once saved from an explosion. She clung to him and gave herself up to the luxury of her tears. She cried for the man she loved, for his grief and pain; for herself, the child she had been and the woman she had become; for Sam, for her parents, and for Molly. She heard him murmur soothingly, "Oh, no, no, no, not that - don't cry, Alex - it's okay, I'm 'ere - I'm with you - I won't go - shh, shh, I'm 'ere - oh, love - " Then his words ceased and she knew that he was weeping, and that his tears eased the sorrow that had frozen his heart for so long. She cried for that, too. They stayed there for a long time, in one anothers' arms, while the candle burned lower.

Sam turned away into the darkness and left them alone together.

**TBC**


	4. Union

Chapter 4: Union

**Disclaimer: BBC, Kudos and Monastic own all copyrights. The only things I own are this and my other fanfics.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who has read this, and especially those who have reviewed Chapter 3. I'd been so uncertain about it, it's wonderful to get so much really positive feedback. **

**This is the last chapter - as this is a Christmas fic, I had to finish posting it before the decorations are meant to come down!**

**As always, reviews and other feedback would be so welcome.**

At last they were both silent, but neither dared to move, as though afraid to break the spell. Alex shivered, and Gene drew a fold of his coat around her, pulling her closer to the warmth of his body.

"So many tears between the two of us," he rumbled into her hair. "An' why were _you_ cryin'?"

"I thought I'd lost you," she said in a small voice. "Have I?"

_Dangerous. Don't push him. You still might lose him._

She felt him heave a long, deep sigh that washed him clean at last of the burden of grief and guilt which had crippled him. "No, love, you 'aven't lost me. Looks like we've only just found each other. I'm 'ere, as long as you want me an' need me."

"Always," she whispered, daring to look up at him. In the glow of the candle he looked exhausted, but younger, the lines of strain washed away by emotional release. He caught his breath at the sight of her face, undried tears still sparkling on her cheeks.

"Gene," she whispered. "Stay with me tonight. Please."

He allowed himself to smile. "Didn't I just say, as long as you want me?" He bent his head and she lifted her face for his kiss. She gasped softly as he carefully kissed her tears away, one by one. Only when they were all gone did he allow his mouth to brush hers very gently. She reached up one hand to tangle in his hair as their kiss deepened. They drank each other in, lips caressing, tongues entwining, slaking the thirst of the long months since they had first met. He raised his head and gazed deep into her eyes for a moment, then stood, picked her up in his arms, swung her around towards the cabinet, and nodded at the candle. Understanding, she picked up the candlestick and held it out in front of her, lighting his way as he carried her to the bedroom.

So it was by candlelight that they first became lovers.

-o0O0o-

Alex awakened hours later, in darkness, cradled in Gene's strong arms against his naked chest, listening to the steady beat of the heart that she now knew loved her dearly. She felt a deep sense of peace, safety, and happiness greater than she had never known. The candle had burnt out, and she had been awakened by moonlight, shining through the holes in the blind and dappling over her face.

She had imagined many things of him as a lover, but never this gentleness, never this tenderness which he had offered to her as the gift of himself. He had given himself to her, utterly and completely, calling forth a response from the very depths of her being. Their lovemaking had been so profound that when he had fallen back onto the bed beside her and gathered her in his arms, it had been a shock to remember that they were two separate people. It had been as though half of herself lay beside herself.

She sighed contentedly. She knew that she had managed, at least for a time, to dispel the demons that had haunted him, and if they ever returned, she would be there with him to help him fight them.

Or would she?

Her blood ran cold as the realisation struck her. She had found love beyond her imagining, where she had no hope of keeping it. He had entrusted himself to her absolutely, and she was destined to betray that trust. Sooner or later she would return home, and then she would abandon him to a loneliness and despair even greater than that from which she had just redeemed him.

_What have I done to him? In trying to heal him, in claiming his love, I've only made him more vulnerable than ever. The happier I make him while I'm here, the more I'll destroy him when I leave him. How can I do that? _

She had forgotten that she had once thought of him as a construct. This man was real, his grief and suffering were real, their love was real. The prospect of losing him was like a physical pain. She shuddered at the thought, then started as a large hand sleepily drew the duvet up around her shoulders.

"Cold, love?" His voice was soft, warm, full of deep happiness. Her heart ached for them both.

_I won't make his mistake. I won't drive him away. _

"Gene?" She reached up to caress one broad, bare shoulder. "I didn't know you were awake."

"Only just woke up. Moonlight in me face. You'll 'ave to get that blind fixed. Thought I saw - "

"What?"

"Forget it. Trick of the light." He would not tell her what he had seen on awakening. The shafts and sprinkles of moonlight had made him think, for a moment, that her brown curls were draped in white and crowned with silver flowers. _Wishful thinking or a glimpse of the future?_ He smiled to himself and dropped gentle kisses on the top of her head. Whether or not it ever came true, he would cherish the memory.

_Did he see the Clown?_ she thought confusedly. _But I haven't seen the Clown since my parents died. He must have seen something else. Maybe he'll tell me someday. If we have time..._

"Oh, Gene," she sighed, snuggling closer against him, "why did we wait so long?"

"We waited till it was right," his voice rumbled from the darkness. "It could 'ave 'appened before. You know when. But then it would just 'ave been a shag we'd both 'ave ended up regretting. You're too precious for that. I promised meself that night, that I'd wait until - _if _ - I got the chance to make love t'you."

"As you have," she said softly, stroking his chest.

He cleared his throat. "Bolly, I 'ope you won't get me wrong on this, but I think you'll 'ave worked out that I'm not much used to 'appiness. Don't trust it yet. I just want to say - what we've got now is the best thing that's ever 'appened to me, but I know we might not 'ave it for very long."

She froze, suddenly grateful that it was too dark for him to see her face. "Gene, I - "

"You're always talkin' about leavin'," he said gruffly. "If it gives you a chance to see your kid again, I could never stop you. 'Ope you know that. You were right with what you said earlier. A bullet could take either of us away any time. An' I know that if I tried to stop you doin' your job to keep you safe, I'd lose you anyway. You're too bloody independent to stand for that. But 'owever short or long we've got, I promise you I'll do everything I can to make each second count. We'll waste too much time arguin', of course, but then we always 'ave. Can't change that. An' if we do - lose each other - God knows it'd be 'ard, but at least we'd be able to remember what we've got now. It'll be good for us both while it lasts, love. Promise. We'll live for every moment we get. Unbreakable."

"Unbreakable," she whispered, sliding her hand into his like a pledge and laying their entwined fingers on his heart. So she did not even have to tell him that she must go someday. He already accepted that. She could love him and accept his love, hoping that he might not be without comfort when the time came for her to leave him. Perhaps, just perhaps, it would be all right.

_Maybe I wasn't sent here to try to save my parents. Maybe it was to save this flawed, damaged, good man from despair. I'll do my best for us both. He's right. I won't waste our time together dreading the future. Live for every moment._

Feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from her, she laughed softly with relief.

"What's so funny, then?" he rumbled.

"I was just thinking that you're the best Christmas present I've ever been given." She slid her free hand blissfully over his strong, hard body.

"Oh?" His voice was heavy with mock suspicion. "Then 'ow come you unwrapped me a week early?"

"Because I never could resist a sneak peek before Christmas Day."

"Care for another peek?"

"Oh, yes..."

His arm tightened around her as he bent his head to hers, and she smiled into his kiss.

Tomorrow she would light another candle.

**THE END**


End file.
